


nothing new is sweeter than with you

by carrow



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas Eve, Comfort/Angst, M/M, No footballers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrow/pseuds/carrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He watches the man from the corner of his eye while pouring a vodka shot, admires the way his large shoulders stretch his sweater and watches how his tongue darts out to catch a drop of his beer on his bottom lip.</p><p>(Alternatively: the one in which Kuba gets to share Christmas Eve with someone other than himself and a bottle of Tequila)</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing new is sweeter than with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mydeerjoshua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeerjoshua/gifts), [mackasan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mackasan/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> According to my mother, christmas lasts until the january 5, so I'm not /too/ late.  
> Other than that: I'm not very fond of this one, but this pairing deserves some love and *points to mackasan and reummels* they said it was good.  
> I'm not very good with dialogs, so hopefully this won't be too bad.  
> This wasn't beta-read so all mistakes are mine, sorry.  
> You've been warned.

The flow of people in and out of the bar is bigger than Kuba would expect for a Christmas Eve. He’s been serving drinks and making small talk since one in the afternoon, like he does any other day. Some of the locals come by for a drink or just to wish a merry Christmas for him and Mats but all in all, it feels nothing like Christmas. The bar is even more crowded today than normally and Kuba almost forgets it’s supposed to be a festive day.  He’s too busy to pay attention to anything that isn’t the next order.

That is, until the little bell over the door rings just after five in the afternoon and a tall blond man walk in. Kuba almost spills the Chopp he’s pouring while watching the man sit down and lean over the counter. He tries to hurry with the cup he’s filling, but it’s useless because the man has barely sat and Mats is already there to take his order. _Oh, well_.

Through the afternoon Kuba tries to keep an eye on the man while working. He watches the man from the corner of his eye while pouring a vodka shot, admires the way his large shoulders stretch his sweater and watches how his tongue darts out to catch a drop of his beer on his bottom lip. He tries to not get too distracted but can’t help searching for the man once in a while. Every time, the man is looking back at Kuba with a smile and well, it would be rude not to smile back.

The hustle inside the bar starts to die down around eight, enough so Kuba can manage to work alone.  Mats even tries to protest and Kuba wonders if he’s just trying to help or if he’s avoiding something. Either way, Kuba is not having any of it. “I can handle it alone, just please go home before your boyfriend decides to burn my bar down.”

“But what if more people come in?” Mats says from the sink, where he’s rinsing cups and very much not looking at Kuba or Marco who’s sat in the table in the corner for at least 3 hours. “I don’t mind staying a few more hours, you may need help.”

Kuba can’t help rolling his eyes because this kid can be so stubborn it’s annoying. He’s ready to tell Mats the bar will be closing in two hours and there’s absolutely no need for him to stay, when someone calls out from the counter at their backs. “I can help, if that’s the problem.” Both Mats and Kuba turn to look at the blond man who caught Kuba’s attention earlier. “I know how to serve drinks?”

Before Mats has a chance to reply, Kuba turns to him with a smug smile on his lips. “See? No need for you here, go home and enjoy Christmas with Marco.”

Mats makes a show of putting down the last cup and wiping his hands in his shirt, then sends Kuba a sullen look. “Are you sure--”

“Mats get the hell out of here.” The moment Mats starts walking towards the door, Marco practically jumps out of his chair to follow. Before the two are out of the door, Kuba calls out loudly “Merry Christmas, kids.” to which he gets a smile and a thumbs up from Marco and an annoyed glare from Mats.

By the time they’re gone, Kuba already has company behind the counter. He exchanges a smile with his new helper but that’s all they get for the next two hours. They work in silence, but in amidst all the noise, it feels comfortable. There’s not much space for the two of them to move, but they make it work perfectly, one turning around when the other needs to move from one corner to the other, or ducking down when they have to reach something in the shelves behind them.

Working with Mats is usually fun for Kuba, but he’s glad the last two hours of work in the Christmas Eve is not with the kid, but with _this_ man. It makes Kuba feel a way he hasn’t for a long time and he doesn’t even know how to describe the feeling.

By ten, and not a minute later, the last costumer is out of the door and while Kuba cleans the tables and puts the chairs up, his companion finishes the cups and cleans the counter. They work quickly and not even half an hour later, Kuba takes a Tequila bottle from the shelf and walks toward the back door that will lead to the staircase to his apartment. One look at the man is enough for him to follow.

The apartment is small, the living room and kitchen are separated with a counter and the room has space enough for a double bed a wardrobe and nothing more but it’s cozy and most of the time organized so there isn’t much for Kuba to show his visitor. “Make yourself at home.” He says while putting the bottle down on the counter to look for two cups.

“No Christmas tree this year?” The question sounds purely curious.

Kuba shrugs before turning around with the cups. “It always felt like something to do together, so I didn’t saw a reason to get one if it’s only me.” Kuba stops. Considers if he should or shouldn’t say it. Says it anyway, “No tree for the last four years, actually.”

He turns to Kuba with a raised eyebrow, looks questioningly at the Tequila bottle then, without a word walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge. “Since when you’re the kind of guy who prefers Tequila, Blaszczykowski?” Kuba only watches, until he turns with a bottle of wine on his hands and a smug smile on his lips. “I knew it.”

Kuba wants to get mad at how Lukasz simply walks into his house for the first time and acts likes he’s been there all along, but the more he tries, the more he realizes he can’t bring himself to be mad because Lukasz does look like he’s been there all along.

Maybe he has. In the framed pictures, in the guitar Kuba doesn’t know how to play but is sitting beside the couch for years or in the way the whole place is decorated and designed for two even if it has been only Kuba’s all along.

Like he lives there, Lukasz finds glasses for them and opens the wine. He fills their glasses and makes himself comfortable in the couch, Kuba following him in silence and without really paying attention.

Once they’re sat, Lukasz barely waits before he starts talking. “Nice place you have here. Nice bar too. How long do you have it?” It sounds so casual it almost hurts, but if that’s what they are doing, Kuba can go with it.

“About three years, I guess. It’s not much, but it pays the bills.” He thinks about asking where Lukasz has been or what he’s doing with his life but decides against it and sips at his wine instead. It is a lot better than Tequila.

Lukasz doesn’t say anything else and different from earlier, the silence between them now is uncomfortable and awkward. So this is what they’re reduced at; two strangers that can’t hold a casual conversation.

Kuba walks to the window. Looking at the snow falling even if boring is better than watching Lukasz fidget without saying anything. The view isn’t too appealing, just the neighbor houses and the parking lot of the bar. It takes some time for Kuba to notice there are only two trucks there – his old black truck and a similar one, but red. “Where’s your motorcycle?” Kuba doesn’t even try to disguise the confusion on his voice and expression.

The answer is immediate. “Someone once told me motorcycles are for people who don’t know where they’re going.” Lukasz is smiling now, all awkwardness gone. Kuba repeats the words over and over in his mind and there’s only one thing it could mean but still…

“What?” He looks outside again, searching for the black motorcycle. “What happened with _finding yourself and figuring out what you want_?” And if his words sound bitter, well, he has all the right to.

“I figured that out the moment I crossed the city border.” The way Lukasz says that, with a bright smile and such conviction makes Kuba want to punch him.

“What took you so long then?” His words are harsh enough to make Lukasz’ smile falter for a second. And God, how Kuba wishes he had the strength to kick this asshole out of his house, but who is he kidding?! He’s waiting for a reason to make him stay. _Any reason_. And it comes in the form of a few words.

“I was afraid I wasn’t good enough.” Kuba is ready to tell him that is _absolute bullshit_ when Lukasz stops him. “No, hear me out.” He gets up and moves to stand in front of Kuba. “I’ve known you for decades and all along you were the one who always had a solution for our problems, who had any idea what to do with your life and I- I was the lost kid who had a motorcycle and no future at all. I thought that maybe what I needed was out there.”

It’s not like Kuba didn’t knew all of this already, they are best friends, after all. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt listening to Lukasz talk like that about himself. If anything, he was the one with any opportunities before him. None of that matters now, though.  “Was it?” He’d think he’s too old for his voice to fail him, but it doesn’t change the fact that he chokes on his own words then.

“You know it wasn’t.” He tries to open one of his smug crooked smiles but it lasts all of ten seconds it’s gone and he just sounds exhausted and older than he really is. “I’m tired of running, Kuba.”

Of all the years they’ve known each other, there was never the need to play games. Now, of all times is not when they’ll start. Honesty always worked well enough for them. “And I’m tired of waiting.”

Lukasz’ smile is almost blinding, and this time it’s real, when he leans down to rest his forehead against Kuba’s “Does that mean I can spend Christmas at home?”

Kuba can’t help but to smile just as big as Lukasz. He’s waited way too long to hear those words. _Home_ sounds like a completely different word in Lukasz’ voice.  “Only if you intend to stay until next Christmas.”

If _home_ sounds good, Lukasz’ laughter sounds fucking delightful. “I intend on staying for every Christmas of my life, if you’ll have me.”

And damn right he will.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *sweats nervously*  
> Comments and criticism is always welcomed.  
> I'm sorry, I don't know where the angst came from, this was supposed to be Christmas fluff, oops.


End file.
